The document is a narrative from a student's perspective, reflecting on their experiences and the harsh judgments society places on youth. The protagonist, who holds prestigious titles, grapples with the notion of identity and societal perception, particularly the negative stereotypes surrounding their generation. Ultimately, the student's 'crime' is simply existing and being part of a misunderstood youth culture amidst a backdrop of societal scrutiny and disillusionment.

1. This is my first episode of my Series ‘80 CRIMES’
EPISODE 1
The glare was blinding, and the clapping came out of a thick air. The noise rose until my
ears were screaming and my eyes were shedding salt water. They were ambushing me
with their screams of howling cries, their taunting estrangement…their unforgiving smiles
as I walked the black carpet.
Who am I? I’m a Student, not just any Student I’m head of the Student council, I’m the
head boy, captain of the football team, most likely to be Prom KING. But titles are
meaningless when you’re no longer human. I always joined in when mocking those who
walked this path, I clapped with a narcissistic joy, and I ridiculed their backs with strewn
out garbage and cried with the malevolent shouts of our dictators.
I always had the role of appeasing others, the kiss up, the bully, the team leader that
pushed for any answer; a struggling teen trying to face reality with the keenest face,
living in what is viewed as the most worthless generation. What was my crime; I lived up
to expectations of the news, the neighbours, and the people sucking on lemons at the
old people’s home. The despot leader of Ofsted, the bitching of the mean girls in the
House of Commons.
They will live up to nothing. That child is wearing a hoodie he must be a thief. This child
cannot gain a decent qualification, they are worthless to society. The GCSE’s given are
too easy, they’re really a dumb generation. All my grandchild does is sit in his room and
play his games. Back in my day… When I was young…If I was caught doing such a
thing in my day…
STOP!
You wage your wars, you speak your politics, you cry your taxes and inflation, you crash
our credit so we are a struggling nation, we depend on European Union and then waddle
like you’ve lost your cane when they ask for too much, you lose our gold, and you mock
our dreams with calculated vision. You’re fought for this youth, and then you call them
dumb. You belittle them. You make them seem negative, and give us only Celebrities
that have made numerous plunders as our idols. This is the generation that you create…
So, my arms are being bound, the hairy limbs and the spitting breath of a
hulking gorilla is breathing down my neck, whilst my rights are being spewed. My face
turns and there is the camera, the black lenses and cold glassy screen that snap

2. continuously like metabolic drones capturing my empty expression, the high angle shot
of lording police man. Representing the power of the government, each snap is a clap,
and there is a stadium of applauds, the lights are flashing images spotlighting me, and
for the first time I see through a criminal the youth is finally accepted. They yell at me
that our achievements will be all over the Tabloids ” Massive youth drug scheme brought
down!” all over the world, spread to those who would never have recognised me
otherwise. They push my head and other lads and gals into the vehicle and we dive into
a shapeless night.
My only crime was listening…